Are You a Mod or a Rocker? I'm a Mocker
by Absolutego
Summary: Stop being a wuss and hang on, Freddork.


There was a bang and a splutter, audible from inside the halls of Ridgeway High, where two of our three non-Mouseketeers stood at their lockers. Soon, they were joined by the third, her blond hair twisted around her head and most of her clothes stained with grease and oil, walking through the doors of the school in a mild daze with a smile. The other two looked between her and each other, drawing connections and seemingly assessing whether it would be worth finding out what had happened.

"Sam, what was that, what happened? What happened to you?" Carly asked, finally.

"Oh, that's just my scooter," Sam said.

Freddie cocked an eyebrow. "Since when do you have a scooter?"

"Since about three o'clock yesterday," Sam said self-satisfactorily.

"I don't want to know," Freddie said.

"But-"

"Uhp!"

"Come on, Freddie, I'm sure Sam got it through... I don't want to know either," Carly said, and dragged them off to class.

Several hours of prison, drama, or informative educational experience later, depending on who you asked, the final school bell rang. Freddie Benson moved with the mass flow of students, looking forward to getting home to finally test out the new update of Final Slice Pro. Maybe he could see if he could finally get tht clip of Carly to look like she was-

"Hey geekwad! Get over here!"

He looked to his right, and over by the bike racks he saw a plaid-covered arm waving at him. Freddie sighed and, against his better judgment, walked over to Sam. She was standing over a light blue Vespa that had probably seen better days, trying to coax the ignition beyond a staccato cough.

"You're good with things and... stuff. Fix it."

"Hey, just because I rock with computers doesn't mean-"

"Come on, its somewhere in the electrical system. My mom hasn't dated thirteen auto mechanics for nothing."

"OK, but you're going to owe me."

"I don't owe you anything."

"Do you want your scooter or not?"

"Fine." With a shove in the back his head was under a panel in the front of the scooter, and a few minutes and 'encouragement kicks' from Sam later Freddie stood back up and dusted himself off.

"There, it should work. Can I go home now?" he asked plaintively.

"What, don't you want to see what this puppy can do?" she asked.

"No, I honestly don't. I like having all of my teeth and bones intact." Freddie said, arms crossed.

"Oh come on. Besides, I owe you."

"So?"

"So I'm going to give you a ride on my scooter, then we're even." The 'duh' was implied.

"Sam that's not what I meant at all and hey what are you doing no don't start it!" Freddie yelled as Sam grabbed his arm and dragged him overtop of the scooter, pulling him down on the back half of the seat that was really only designed for one person.

"Stop being a wuss and hang on, Freddork."

The scooter wobbled down the sidewalk under the weight of its two occupants and plopped off the curb, swerving into traffic. Freddie held on for dear life, feet clammering for a hold and arms clutching places that would probably be cause for putting him in a wheelchair when they got off, watching cars fly by on the left and right. It was a stoplight up ahead, though, he saw, and hoped that maybe he could escape. But she wasn't slowing down. A last second swerve and she dove between two rows of cars, ducking shoulders to avoid side-view mirrors and cutting over to the turn lane. Punching the gas out of the apex of the turn she raced down the open pavement, nailing the brakes to make another turn at the end of the block, sending him crashing into her even more than he was already. Another series of drag races and she finally pulled to a stop. Freddy moved himself shakily to the curb, hands grasping its solid edge and breathing heavily.

After infront of a low-rise brick apartment building. Light blue shutters and flower boxes sat over the deep red facade.

"Heh," he said, "you scooter matches your apartment. I didn't think you were capable of coordinating."

"Oh that's not ours. We live around back."

"Figures. The scooter's not yours, either."

"Hey! I found it fair and square!" she said, pulling a chain and padlock out of her backpack that she looped around the scooter and the railing at the front of the building.

"Great, now what am I supposed to do?" Freddie complained.

"Well, you can come inside and watch me eat ham until I feel like going over to Carly's, or you can make yourself useful and be a footrest."

Reluctantly, Freddie followed her back to her apartment

He sat in front of the television, absent-mindedly running through the channels. It had been on when they came inside, although he had yet to see signs that anyone else was home, and he had had to _very carefully_ move a pile of bikinis to the side of the couch so he would have somewhere to sit. In fact, he was surprised Sam had let him have the remote at all, but he looked over and saw that she was probably just too preoccupied with shoving an entire pack of valu-brand sliced ham into her mouth to have noticed. With the ham halfway down her throat, she reached over and grabbed the remote. Guess she did notice. After subsequently seeing the last two minutes of a monster truck rally, a pro bull riding championship, and three movies that Freddie was pretty sure his mom would never let him see, she turned off the television with a sigh of dispair.

"Ugh, we missed everything good on. Let's just go over to Carly's."

She got up and Freddie followed her out, but he stopped as they rounded the front of the building.

"Oh no, you don't think I'm going to get on that thing again," he said, pointing at the Vespa.

"It's that or the bus, Fredward. I'm sure Smiles the Hobo that lives in the back bench seat would be happy to see you, he gets all touchy-feely when he's asking people for money for fried chicken."

Freddie's expression changed to one of discomfort, and he stole a glance at the scooter.

"Fine. But can you please-"

"Nope."


End file.
